When I Open My Eyes
by The Wind in May
Summary: Moments in Caer Dallben through the eyes of Eilonwy, however happy, sad, tumultuous, or string-snapping they may be. Set between The Book of Three and The Black Cauldron.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first time writing fanfiction for the Chronicles of Prydain, and for me it's a sort of character study more than anything else. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and, while I know the Prydain community is small, I would appreciate any reviews you have. Thank you!_

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I suppose I should begin with what it's like here. Llyr knows there's enough to say about that.

Days here are long, but satisfying. There's an awful lot of cleaning to be done, but it feels good somehow, like solving a difficult riddle. It's a shame Dallben isn't younger, for maybe then he could help us, but Coll, Taran, Gurgi, and I manage fine.

With Achren, I didn't know enough about cooking to butter a piece of bread, but traveling in a forest for weeks teaches one a thing or two about making food, especially out of next to nothing. I've gotten pretty skillful when it comes to eggs, and just yesterday Coll told me my omelets were better than anything he had ever tasted. Well, I simply glowed when he said that, and hoped to receive praise from Taran as well, but instead Gurgi said something about crunchings and munchings and a suspiciously snore-like sound came from the next room where Dallben was meditating.

Taran is just the sort of person who doesn't give you compliments when you want them. And if he does give you a compliment, you may be sure he'll add "for a girl" to the end of it, and it's like ruining a beautiful story with a miserable ending. Well, I can tell you, I lose my head anytime he says that. We have a good, screaming argument, and at least one of us storms off within a few minutes.

In fact, we had one of our rows a few days ago. It was cold both without and within, and Taran and I were chopping wood for the fires that are necessary in the evenings. I often make it a race in my mind to see who can chop the most wood, but of course Taran always wins. That day I was really doing my best to beat him, and he happened to notice my determination and say, "You have a lot of strength," and then of course he added that stupid, "for a girl."

Great Belin, I was mad. "What does me being a girl have to do with anything? A girl could be ten times as strong as any boy."

He looked up at the sky impatiently. "That's not what I meant. If you'd take the time to listen—"

I really whirled on him then. "What did you mean, then? Taran of Caer Dallben, I swear, you are the most inconsiderate—"

This got him mad. "Now look here, Eilonwy. Use your head, if you have one."

"It's always 'Look here, Eilonwy' this or 'You're a girl, Eilonwy' that. I can't stand it!"

"Eilonwy—"

"I'm not speaking to you!" This time it was me who stomped off. It's a stroke of luck for Taran that I had put down my chopping axe, for I felt I could have hacked him to bits.

I was rather red in the face by the time I reached the scullery. I saw then that I had overreacted, but that just made me feel much worse. I threw a plate against the wall, but it was one of our good, strong ones and didn't break, which rather defeated the purpose. In the end, I threw myself down on my cot and screamed, which is the best way to get rid of a tantrum. I hadn't had any supper, and the fire was out so it was terribly cold, but I somehow fell asleep anyway.

The sound of my door squeaking woke me up. I looked over just in time to see Taran leaving and shutting the door behind him.

 _What had Taran been doing in my scullery?_ I wondered. It was then that I realized there was a fire blazing on the hearth, my quilt was wrapped around me, and there was a small plate of supper lying next to my bed. Immediately all of my remaining anger flew out of my body like a bird, and if I hadn't been so cozy I would have run after him and made a formal apology. That's the funny thing about Taran; I can never stay angry with him for long. I simply don't have it in me. I suppose one day I could sit myself down and say, "I will be angry at Taran and nothing can stop me." It wouldn't work, of course, but perhaps it would be worth a try. It's remarkable how many things I tell myself I should try someday. I'm sure I'll never get around to any of them. That's just the way life is I suppose.


	2. Chapter 2

There are two times of day I like best. The first is the sunrise; I always get up early to watch it. I love the way everything looks when the sky is the color of a rose. The house looks more homely than ever, and during the dawn the sun lights up the orchard so that the leaves scatter patterns on the ground and the apples seem to glow. Of course, there aren't any apples now, for it is past the season, but in early Autumn, as Taran says, "There are so many apples you're tired of them." There's a funny story about us and and an apple tree, but I think I shall save that for later.

Often I go out into the little field and lie on the grass to watch the sun come up, and it's very funny, me in my nightclothes with the sun peeking over the horizon at me. Sometimes Taran joins me, but usually he sleeps far into the morning, when Coll will let him. Coll once told me, "Growing lads need all the sleep they can get." I said, "Then Dallben must be growing more than any of us." Taran heard me and laughed and laughed, but Coll just scratched at his head and looked thoughtful.

Speaking of Dallben, I have a story about him as well. Once I was watching the sunrise just as I said before, and I felt someone behind me, in the strange way you sometimes just know something, like a calf knows its mother. I turned around, and there was Dallben, standing a little ways from me, just watching me watching the daybreak. I was about to ask him if he would care to join me when he left as quickly and quietly as he had come. Sometimes he reminds me of a cat, in that he is sly and seems to always know more than you do and naps all day. Yes, a very old cat. I shall have to tell Taran that one; he'll think it very funny.

My other favorite time of day is after supper, when it's dark, and we all gather around the fire. There are two chairs there. One is made of leather and that's where Dallben sits, if he is joining us at all, and if he is not Coll makes it his seat. I take the other chair, a simple wooden stool, and Taran leans against me, and if we feel like it we switch places. Gurgi sits (or crouches, really) with his back to the fire, and then we all have the best time you can imagine. Coll tells us stories, ones that excite us and scare us, and my favorite had three witches, and one of them was evil, and a prince and a bard and… well, I can't remember it all now. Or sometimes Coll will sing (he's not very good) or play on the pipes he made for himself. He took reeds from the little pond that lies near the orchard, and whittled them into pipes. I'm not quite sure how he did it, but they play a jolly tune, and Coll has promised to teach me someday when he's not too busy with farm work. Oh, and sometimes we dance, but Taran doesn't favor it and Gurgi isn't exactly built for dancing. It's quite irritating to be the only dancer. I can't see why Taran doesn't like it, as it's very similar to swordplay; they both involve balance and grace.

Sometimes I am so tired that I fall asleep right in the middle of Coll's story. I suppose that's extremely rude, but I don't think anyone minds very much, because the next thing I know I'm being carried put in bed.

There are so many other times of day I like, but those are just nice things that come from out of the blue, like unexpected presents. Little adventures occur every day, and I do believe adventure might be my favorite thing of all.

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 _The next installment will probably be an actual short story instead of drabble. Please leave a review!_


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